


Casualties

by Dancingqueen17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depressed Harry, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Second War with Voldemort, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 15:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18813820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingqueen17/pseuds/Dancingqueen17
Summary: After a interview with none other that Rita Skeeter, Harry begins to question why he’s still here at all.





	Casualties

*Flashback*

Harry was happy. It had been a while since he had felt happy. Being chased by a homicidal wizard isn't all fun and games. A light buzz fluttered through him when he saw Voldemort fade into a million pieces. When he saw the man he had been trying to kill for years crumple to the ground and break, it pleased him. He turned around ready for hugs and cheers but everyone was silent. Nobody even spared a glance in the Golden Boys direction. He was confused. He had done it. Was no one proud of him? Everyone was huddled in small groups around something. Curious about what it was Harry found the splash of red hair in the dark crowd and went to join the Weasley's.

Then he saw him. He saw Fred's crumpled body. He saw his broken family. He saw Mrs and Mr. Weasley crouching over their son. He saw Ron staring at him in disbelief. He saw how broken they all looked. All the joy Harry had felt was gone. Fred Weasley was dead. Then Harry ran. He ran to the other huddled groups of people. Remus, Tonks, Colin, all dead. 

He kept running to more families. The body count kept getting higher. He thought they had only lost Snape. He was wrong. But then again when was he ever right? Harry surveyed the damage. 53 people who had families were dead. And that didn't even include the people who had died prewar. 53 people who he had met, talked to, cared about, were dead. 53 people were dead because he couldn't do the one thing he was supposed to. 53 people dead because of him.

*End of Flashback*

Harry hadn't felt happy since then. Well to be fair he hadn't felt anything. The magazine's called him a legend, a saviour, a hero. He was no hero. He didn't want anyone to die for him. Lily, James, Sirius, Remus, Fred, Dumbledore, Snape, they had died for him. He wondered how great their lives would have been if he had never been born. He killed them just as much as Voldemort did. He did this. 

Harry wasn't sure what time it was. But he did know someone was supposed to be here by now. Due to the fact that he had been exhibiting concerning behaviors (as Hermione had put it) Harry had been put on suicide watch not long after the war ended. He was 22 years old, and he had to be watched like a fucking baby. Pathetic. Sometimes he wished he had just died in the war. Sometimes he wished he was never born at all.Maybe they had forgotten him. He wouldn't be surprised. They deserved better. But then someone knocked on the door.

Harry expected Ron or Draco to be checking in on him, but none other than Rita Skeeter was at the door, followed by a very frantic looking Hermione. 

"Hello Mr. Potter. I pulled a few strings and got myself a interview with you." She said pushing past him to sit on the couch.

Hermione sent him a sympathetic look. “Sorry, Harry. She has all her paperwork in order, she has thirty minutes with you.” Harry had almost forgotten that he didn’t even own himself.

Harry gawked at her, then composed himself. He knew every little thing he did would be written on that paper. He sighed gently then sat on the couch across from her as Hermione stood protectively behind him.

“So Mr. Potter, I hear you’ve been in a slump since the war. What’s that about?” Her quill fluttered quickly across her notepad.

Harry sighed. “Death takes it toll, I guess. I just miss everyone.”

“I’m sure you do, but you did the world a great favor. You should not have to be plagued by the casualties of war. But back to the questions. Where are you working now.” Rita said quickly.

Harry’s heart lurched. Casualties. His friends. His Family. People he loved. They were so much more than casualties. 

“Those Casualties are my friends.” Harry said angrily. Hermione put her hands on his shoulders.

“I think that’s just about en-“ Hermione started.

“They’re not just casualties of war they are my friends, at least they were before I got them killed.” Harry ranted. Rita’s quill was zooming now.

“What do you mean by that.” Rita said leaning in.

Before Hermione could stop him Harry blurted “I killed them because I didn’t do my fucking job. I let everyone die. My parents. My teachers. My friends. My shitty mistakes cost them their lives. God I’m fucking worthless.”

Rita raised a quick eyebrow before closing her notepad with a loud snap. “Well that’s quite enough Mr. Potter. Thanks for your time.” With that Rita walked out the door. Hermione let out a long groan.

“You were doing so well.” She said sadly. “That’s gonna be on every paper in Europe Harry.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. He had fucked up. Again.

"I'm gonna see if I can fix this. Later Harry." And with a quick kiss on the cheek Hermione was gone.

Harry figured Hermione had forgotten that she had originally been here to make sure he didn't kill himself. But he didn't mind. It gave him time to have his daily mental breakdown slightly earlier in the day.

Harry let all the emotions he had been holding in come out. He flipped the coffee table, leaving shards of glass everywhere. He grabbed a shard and stabbed it into his arm. Over and over again. He liked the way the glass easily teared through several layers of skin. Maybe a few too many layers of skin, but Harry didn't care. After his arm was thoroughly soaked in blood, and his head was empty he decided he was finished. And with a few basic healing spells (which didn't do much due to the fact that Harry didn't know a thing about healing) and a quick "Reparo" the room looked good as new.

Like nothing ever happened at all. And that's the way Harry liked it.


End file.
